


The Moon Laughs and Whispers

by moonlightrhosyn



Category: Torchwood
Genre: AU, F/M, Found Family, Gray falls through the Rift, Horror, Torchwood One
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:06:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27370171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlightrhosyn/pseuds/moonlightrhosyn
Summary: “Wow,” Gray breathed, a reverent look on his face, “It’s beautiful.”“Yes,” Agnes said, “it is. Now -”“So intricate, and it looks like it was handmade, too. The time this must have taken to complete… this is incredible!” He beamed. “This - this is really spectacular. Thank you,” he said softly, turning to look at her. “Early 51st century - right around the turn of the century. We’ll probably want to include late 50th in the Archive scan, but I’m confident that it's from the 51st century.”When Gray is asked to help on a project identifying an object from the 51st century, he's thrilled. He's significantly less thrilled when all the files he brought up to help identify it start showing information about the Boeshane Peninsula; after all, if Yvonne finds out that one of her employees is secretly from the future, what's going happen to him?
Relationships: Lisa Hallett/Ianto Jones
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17
Collections: Torchwood Fan Fests: Halloween Fest 2020





	The Moon Laughs and Whispers

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Halloween Fest week 3 prompt "Creatures" and the week 4 prompt "Cursed Objects"  
> Thanks to my beta @princessoftheworlds for her tremendous help with my characterization of Ianto and Yvonne!

The Retrieval team had brought something in from Cardiff; ostensibly, it had fallen through the Rift right in front of them while they were visiting Captain Harkness, and they had decided to bring it back to Canary Wharf instead of giving it to him. Gossip seemed inclined more towards them stealing it from Torchwood Three’s Secure Archives while he and his team were distracted by a fake Rift alert. There was also already a betting pool on what the object was, mostly by people who hadn’t even seen it, with entries ranging from jewelry to weaponry to modern art to some kind of sex toy to alien record player. Agnes Haversham, Researcher, and Ianto Jones, Archivist, had been assigned by Yvonne to figuring out what it was. As soon as that knowledge hit the grapevine, they became _very_ popular.

“So,” Grayson Evans said, setting his lunch tray down across from them with a thunk, “ _is_ it a sex toy? There’s a lot of money in the pool, and there are some nice books I’ve been eyeing recently.”

Ianto looked at him and winced. “ _Why_?”

“I’m bored, I’m horny, and I have a reputation to maintain,” he replied, shrugging.

Agnes looked up and gaped at him disgustedly. “Evans, I’m _eating lunch_!” she exclaimed indignantly.

“Sorry,” he replied, “but I have to take that encyclopedia up to Translation after lunch, so I’m kinda crunched for time here.”

“Pressed for time,” Ianto corrected him automatically without looking up from his PDA.

He groaned. “Ianto, you cannot seriously be working right now. It’s your lunch break!”

“I have a lot I need to get done, Gray,” Ianto replied. “Being an Archivist is a lot of work.”

“Angling to keep the promotion, then?” He laughed.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Professor?” Ianto replied mildly. “Actually, there are some benefits to not being a Junior Archivist anymore - access to the Research department, for one. Getting to see alien technology actually being _used_ instead of editing someone else’s report about what it does or putting it in the appropriate filing cabinet.”

“Oh, definitely,” Agnes agreed, smirking. “My job is so much cooler than yours.”

Ianto scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I bet that is neat,” Gray sighed. “There’s something about getting something to work, about _understanding_ it, getting a glimpse into the lives of the people it belonged to - there’s nothing like it, really.” He looked off into the distance and smiled fondly.

Agnes and Ianto exchanged an amused glance before she turned back to him and crooned, “Aww, look at the _anthropologist_!”

Gray snorted and turned red. “Just like my father before me,” he said, grinning at them. “I’m sure I’ve told you the story of how my parents met and -”

“Yes,” Agnes said quickly, “you have, Evans.”

“Well, I like telling people - it’s a really cute story, and I like it,” he defended.

“I can tell,” Agnes groaned. “But I don’t want to hear it for a third time.”

Gray pouted. “Oh, come on, Haversham,” he said slyly, “you know you love hearing my voice.”

“No, I _don’t_ , you damn Yank,” she groused.

“I’m Welsh!” he protested indignantly. “I grew up in Cardiff!”

“Hence the repetition of his life’s story at every opportunity,” Ianto murmured, looking up from his PDA to meet Gray’s eyes, who promptly winked.

_(A long time ago, when Ianto was a Junior Archivist and Gray was an assistant professor at UCL Anthropology, he’d had to take off his shirt and rip it up to make a makeshift tourniquet. He’d had long, jagged scars on his back, in addition to the one on the side of his jaw, which looked more like a brand. They were, he had explained to Ianto, mementos from his childhood - a childhood three thousand years in the future - when he’d been taken by creatures he refused to describe and tortured for two years before being dumped in late 20th-century Cardiff by the Rift. He’d clearly expected Ianto to turn him in for a promotion; Ianto had admitted he’d already known - he had checked Gray’s background before the mission and then, he assured him, changed a few details so it would hold up to scrutiny in the future._

_“Two questions,” Ianto had asked, after Gray’s first day as a Torchwood employee. “What’s your real name, and why keep your American accent when it’d be easier to blend in if you sounded Welsh?”_

_“Gray Evaan Thane,” he’d replied softly._

_“Okay, third question, then - how did you come up with ‘Peter’ as a middle name?”_

_“My older brother’s middle name was Piotr. It was the closest equivalent this planet has.”_

_“Ah.”_

_“And the accent - it’s the only thing from my home that I’ve really got left now. It’s what my parents and my brother and my friends sounded like. I guess it makes it easier to remember them.”_

_“Well then,” Ianto had offered, “the least I can do is call you ‘Gray’ instead of Grayson. After all, you did save my life.”)_

“You know it,” he replied insouciantly, leaning back in his chair.

“Well, you’re in luck with regards to the object we’re researching, I’m afraid,” Agnes said.

He smiled widely. “It _is_ a sex toy!” he cheered.

“What? No!” Agnes sputtered.

“Oh,” he said, wilting. “Then why am I lucky?”

“As far as we can make out,” she explained, “the object comes from the 49th, 50th, or 51st century - based on Captain Harkness’ report that it was abandoned by a woman he believes to have been one of those Time Agent people, since all of them that Torchwood has, ahem, encountered -”

“Since, as you know, Torchwood’s never managed to successfully _catch_ any of them,” Ianto interjected, smirking faintly.

“- Yes, thank you, Ianto - since the Time Agents all claim to be from around that era, and that time period has become your specialty since you started working here, we’d like you to help us determine what the object is. Yvonne’s already approved my request.”

Gray beamed at her. “Oh, thank you, Agnes!” he exclaimed. “How can I ever thank you enough for this? Want to have dinner with me?”

“God no,” she replied hurriedly, “I heard about the recruitment agent you had dinner with.”

“I can tone down the flirting,” he replied woundedly, “I just thought you might like some food. I can bake you some cookies instead, if you’d prefer. Snickerdoodle is your favourite, right?”

“‘Thank you, Haversham’ would suffice,” she replied.

“In my culture, you repay people with deeds, not just words,” he told her.

“Really,” Agnes said dryly, “because Jones has never done that.”

“Well, Gray’s father was an American, and they do tend to be somewhat more… effusive,” Ianto pointed out. “Ayway, since we’re all finished eating, should we get started?”

*********

“Wow,” Gray breathed, a reverent look on his face, “It’s beautiful.”

“Yes,” Agnes said, “it is. Now -”

“So intricate, and it looks like it was handmade, too. The time this must have taken to complete… this is incredible!” He beamed. “This - this is really spectacular. Thank you,” he said softly, turning to look at her. “Early 51st century - right around the turn of the century. We’ll probably want to include late 50th in the Archive scan, but I’m confident that it's from the 51st century.”

“Any idea what it is yet?” Agnes asked.

“No, I’m afraid not - other than it _not_ being a sex toy, and that it’s a sealed box that may or may not be empty. But I’ll go through everything we’ve got from that era and see if there’s anything similar.”

“Our initial scans said there was nothing in the Archives that looked like this,” Ianto pointed out.

“Yeah, but I can look for other crafts from the 51st century and compare the style and craftsmanship to this - that’ll give us an idea of the region it’s from, and then it’s just a matter of identifying culture and function. I’ll get started right now!” With that, he pulled off his nitrile gloves and ran out of the room.

Agnes and Ianto exchanged an amused glance. Gray had been like that the first time they’d met him, when Yvonne had sent them to determine whether the young anthropologist had somehow gotten his hands on a piece of alien technology that Torchwood had been keeping track of. Of course, Agnes and Gray had fought about everything back then - Agnes was reserved and highly professional, and Gray was loud and alarmingly flirtatious. Ianto’s attempts at mediation, unfortunately, had only started working after he’d been stabbed.

“Guess we can update the report draft, then,” Agnes said.

“Yeah,” Ianto agreed. “Yvonne will be pleased. And I’ll have to tell Lisa we’re finally making progress!”

Agnes grinned at him, shaking her head.

*********

Gray glanced around nervously and clutched the stack of files closer to his chest, before holding his Torchwood employee badge up to the Floor 15 guard.

“Hey,” he said. “Good to see you, Jeremy.”

“You too, Evans. But isn’t it a little late for you to be working?”

“Uh, yes, but -” _Think, Gray, think!_ He remonstrated with himself. Then it hit him. _Oh, thank you, Haversham!_ “Oh, you know,” he said casually, winking at Jeremy and sidling closer, “I actually hoped I’d find you here.”

Jeremy gaped at him. “W-what?!”

“Officially, I want to drop off the paper copies of the reports on objects similar to Object U51293 for Jones and Haversham,” he explained, “so they can get an early start tomorrow.” He leaned towards Jeremy and whispered, “That way, I can head home early.” He raised his eyebrows and added, “And sleep in.”

Jeremy turned a funny red colour. “Uh - uh - well then, you’d better go on through,” he sputtered.

“Thanks,” Gray said, winking at him again.

As soon as the door closed behind him, he let out a loud sigh. _Okay, Thane, this is no time to lose your nerve. Just walk up to it. Like Dad always told me - you can do this. I can do this._ He stepped forwards. He set the files down on the table next to the box and peered down at it. _I’m almost certain it’s a handmade keepsakes box, even if it is the biggest one I’ve ever seen. But how do you open it?_ He glanced towards the door. _Surely it wouldn’t hurt just to look._ He looked around for a pair of gloves but didn’t see any. He shrugged and picked up the box. For a second, he felt a contentment and a sense of home that he hadn’t felt in years wash over him. Then it vanished, and there was nothing but pain.

*********

“Gray! Gray! Gray, wake up!”

Someone was shouting and shaking his shoulders. He opened his mouth and let out a rasping sound.

“Water - give him some water, Ianto!”

The hands left his shoulders - one lifted his head, and a cup was placed to his mouth.

“Drink slowly. Slowly, Gray,” Ianto murmured. “You’ve had a bad fall.”

“Ughh,” he groaned. “I feel awful.”

‘Evans, what happened?” Agnes asked, concern written clearly on her face.

“I came in to drop off the files,” he said, trying to stand up.

Ianto put one of his hands back on his shoulder, and said, “Leave the files, Gray. We’ll pick them up later.”

“Yeah, Thompson told us,” Agnes said. “When you didn’t come out, he got worried and called us.”

“Well, I can come out right now,” Gray drawled woozily. “Jeremy, your hair looks great when you fluff it up. Have you been running your hands through it?”

Jeremy sputtered and turned red again. Agnes groaned. Ianto chuckled softly and shook his head.

“How do you feel?” Jeremy asked, frowning.

“Fuzzy,” he said consideringly. “My teeth feel a bit sticky,” he added a moment later.

Agnes, Ianto, and Jeremy looked at each other in concern. “Well, a medical team is on their way,” Agnes assured him, trying to smile. “Just stay awake, okay?”

*********

“Well, Mr. Evans, it looks like you’ve got a mild concussion, but other than that you weren’t injured in the fall. You were very lucky. You’ll need to take the next two or three days off at the least, and I want you to spend as much of that time sleeping as possible - and no television, radio, or reading during that time. You’re not supposed to lose consciousness if you get a concussion, so be sure to let us know if you start to feel dizzy or faint, or have trouble remembering anything,” the doctor told him, pulling the curtains back from around the bed.

“Thank you, Doctor Crane,” Gray said, smiling tiredly.

“Samantha, please,” she told him.

“Alright, Samantha,” he said. “Maybe when I’m recovered you can give me another checkup.” He winked at her.

She laughed a bit. “Sorry, but I’ve already got a girlfriend. Anyway, you’re good to go, Gray. I’ll just give this” - she held up a stack of papers - “to your friend. It’s got symptoms to look out for over the next few days.”

Ianto came into the room a minute later, the papers tucked under his arm. “Hey,” he greeted him. “Feeling a bit less fuzzy, then?”

Gray nodded, yawning involuntarily.

Ianto smiled. “Right then, let’s get you home - I thought maybe you should stay at my flat for the next few days, while you’re in the ‘danger window,’ just in case?”

“Lisa won’t mind?” he asked.

“No, I called her earlier, and she said it’d be fine. And I know you tend to get a bit… out of sorts when you’re injured.”

“You mean panicky,” he said, closing his eyes and bringing his hands up to his temples. “Yeah, sorry. It’s just… being injured means I’m helpless, and it’s not something I care for.”

“I understand that,” Ianto replied, tapping his right thigh.

Gray smirked, and snorted faintly. “That? That wasn’t a real injury, just a tiny stab wound!”

“Haha, Mr ‘Mild Concussion’ means I want two other people in my flat,” Ianto retorted dryly, his tone belied by a grin he couldn’t entirely suppress. “Come on, then. The sooner you can get some rest the better, and Lisa’s got the car waiting outside.”

*********

“It’s good to have you back, Gray,” Yvonne Hartman said, shaking his hand, “and I’m glad you’re feeling better. Hopefully you’ll be able to help Agnes and Ianto figure out what the object is - they haven’t had any luck so far, unfortunately. If you start to feel over-tired, though, do take a bit of a rest. We don’t need you giving yourself a worse injury and slowing the project down any further.”

“Thanks, Yvonne,” he replied. “I’ll see about widening the range of files on similar objects in either direction time-wise, and that should hopefully be able to help. Thanks for your concern and for the card.” He jogged off.

Ianto chuckled as he entered the room. “You escaped, then?”

“I’m sorry, but she makes me nervous,” he said.

“No, it’s reasonable, your history being what it is. I don’t think she’s _that_ bad, though.”

“Really,” he said flatly.

Ianto laughed. “Well, aside from her being at least a bit of an imperialist and my being Welsh. But I respect her abilities - and even you have to admit she is very good at her job, and it isn’t an easy one. And she really does care about us; she sent you a card. Anyway, you said you were from a colony, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but colonies in the 51st century are different,” he explained. “The Boekind - the native species of the Peninsula - invited others to settle there once they started to die out.” He shrugged. “Maybe they got lonely.”

Ianto suddenly frowned and opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was cut off by Agnes’ “Hi, Evans, glad you’re feeling better” as she bustled into the room with a stack of files.

“Hullo Haversham,” he replied cheerfully. “I heard the files weren’t much help?”

“No; as a matter of fact, they were completely useless - but I do appreciate the effort. I figured you could take the files back, since the Archive’s been pestering me about it for two days now.” She snorted. “If we didn’t use psychic paper to copy files, we could keep them longer, and more people could borrow files. It’s a bloody waste of effort on our part if you ask me - ‘Queen and Country’ doesn’t care about how much paper we use, no matter what Yvonne thinks. Here.” She handed him the files.

“Thanks,” he said, flipping open the topmost file. He stopped and looked back up. “Where did you get this?” he asked.

“From _you_ ,” Agnes replied impatiently.

Gray squeezed his eyes shut, drew in a breath, and tried to quell a rising tide of panic. Now he knew what Ianto had been about to say. He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He gulped and tried again. “No.”

“Beg pardon?” she replied, frowning.

“No, you didn’t get this file from me - I didn’t bring this one up.” he flipped through a few of the other reports. “None of these are the same as the files I brought up.”

“Well, that explains why they were useless,” Ianto said, shrugging. He looked at Gray concernedly.

“Charles said there was a CCTV blackout in this room around the time period you were in here - routine maintenance work, updating the system or something. I suppose someone could have changed the files while you were unconscious. Do you think Thompson could have…?”

“No, he doesn’t have the security clearance to get in here. He had to wait for us to get here when Gray collapsed before he could get in,” Ianto pointed out.

“Ianto, can I talk to you for a moment?” Gray cut in. Ianto nodded, and he marched from the room.

“None of those files are from the Archives” he said at the same time as Ianto said “The files are all about your home planet.” They blinked at each other and smiled faintly; Ianto gestured at him to talk first.

“All of them? They’re about Boeshane?” he asked. Ianto nodded. “There aren’t any files about Boeshane in the Archives - I checked as soon as I got clearance, to see if there was anything. Extensively. I’d hoped someone might have filed something incorrectly, or… well. And they don’t seem able to change back.”

“Well then,” Ianto said. “Rather not good. Do you remember anything about what happened before you collapsed?”

He nodded. “Pain - before I fell. No idea what caused it, though - and the less Torchwood scans me, the better.” He giggled sharply and a little hysterically. “God, what if someone _knows_?”

“They haven’t told Yvonne yet, if they do, which means we can find them.”

“And then what?”

“I’ll deal with it,” Ianto said calmly.

“ _You_?” he said skeptically.

Ianto inclined his head. “I won’t let them lock you up, Gray. At the very least I can lace their coffee with Retcon.”

Gray tilted his head to the side consideringly. “Not a bad plan, actually.” He mustered up a weak smirk. “And here I was thinking you were planning on offing someone like you were a Time Agent or something.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Ianto replied wryly. “We should head back. Agnes will be worried; she’ll assume you’ve had a shock. Well, I guess you have, haven’t you? Anyway, grab a cup of water before coming back in.”

Gray nodded. “She’ll probably assume I freaked out over the fact that someone could have been in the room while I was unconscious.” He paused. “I could have been killed,” he said suddenly. “Someone could have killed me.”

“Or some _thing_ ,” Ianto pointed out.

“Gee, thanks,” he replied sarcastically, then froze. “Hey, I think you’re right!”

“What?” Ianto asked bemusedly.

“Tell you later,” he promised, “We need to head back!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be gone so long,” he told Agnes as he came back in.

“Not a problem,” she assured him. “After all, you have had quite a shock, and I know you’re a bit -” she flapped her hand about vaguely - “nervous and high-strung.”

He scowled at her half-heartedly. Haversham had always been a curious mixture of cautious and gung-ho that scared him more than he cared to admit - she half-reminded him of the sentinels on Boeshane, somehow both terrified of the creatures coming and completely unafraid of dying themselves. Even though they were sort of friends now, she still teased him about being a nervous academic. _Haversham_! The woman worked in the Research department, for Goddess’ sake! But he had to admit she was cool in a crisis, and very accurate with a gun - certainly far better than him.

“We waited for you,” Ianto chimed in, “since you’re the only one who knows what the original files were.”

He nodded. “Right then. The reason, from what I can see, that you didn’t notice that the files had been altered is that they’re all about the same era that the box is from, and about a planet that seems to make a lot of handicrafts, which it looks like is the result of them not having a very high-tech society for whatever reason” he said distractedly, thumbing through the rest of the files. “Unfortunately, none of them bear any more than the slightest surface similarities with our box here; in fact, all of the files seem to be changed in such a way that they’re useless as far as finding the origins, purpose, etcetera of our box.” He looked up, then added hesitantly “I don’t think we should tell anyone that the files have changed.”

“Why not?” Agnes asked, frowning, but sitting back down.

“It’d be embarrassing to tell Yvonne that someone snuck into a locked room during our first big solo project,” Ianto pointed out. “She might take us off it.”

Agnes nodded sharply. “Right then. Let’s figure out what the new files have in common and go from there.”

Gray was having a really terrible day. Ianto had been right - all the files were about Boeshane. Every. Single. One. He took another sip of water, trying to hide the fact that his hands were shaking again. After years of having panic attacks that had slowly subsided as he got older, he recognised the signs and was pretty sure he was about to have one. He opened his mouth to suggest a break but couldn’t get anything out. He tried again, with no success. Then he threw up. Ianto and Agnes’ heads snapped up in alarm.

“Gray!” Ianto exclaimed, rushing over and pulling him into a sort of backwards hug. “Hey, it’s alright, I’ve got you. Deep breaths - in through your nose, out through your mouth. Agnes, get me some water, please.”

“I’ll call medical,” Agnes said as she handed Ianto the water.

“No!” he and Ianto shouted in unison - well, Ianto shouted. He just loudly croaked the word out.

Agnes pulled backwards and frowned. “Why not?”

He let out another, fainter croaking sound.

Agnes looked up briefly, towards the door, then back down at them. “You’re crazy,” she informed him, then turned to Ianto. “You are too, encouraging him like that. Men,” she groaned disgustedly, then turned back towards the doorway and smiled. “I’m glad you put me in charge of the project instead of one of _these_ buffoons, Yvonne.”

Gray’s head snapped up. “It’s passing,” he croaked, “and I didn’t want to waste any more time.”

Yvonne shook her head and sighed. “If only all my employees were as dedicated as you three,” she said, “but if you’re making yourself ill perhaps you should take a break. And if you really can’t continue, we can always take you off the project, Gray, and find something a bit easier for you to do. After all, we are trying to get this finished quickly - it’s why I chose you. But if you aren’t up to it…”

“Thanks, but I’ll be fine” he whispered.

As soon as Yvonne left the room, Agnes spun back towards them. “Well?” she demanded. “What was that all about?”

“Wow,” Ianto said. “I never thought I’d see _you_ lie to Yvonne, Agnes.”

“Don’t expect to see it again,” she replied dryly.

“Wha?” Gray managed. He had a vague feeling that he’d missed something.

“Ianto yelled ‘no’ at the same time as you did, Evans - and I’m certain his not wanting you in hospital has nothing to do with a can-do-no-matter-what attitude, so obviously there’s some other reason. So what’s going on?”

“Not here,” he said, glancing at the doorway.

Ianto looked down at him and said, “Are you sure…?”

“I trust Haversham, Ianto,” Gray assured him. “Can we all come back to your flat tonight and talk about it? You could make us some coffee?”

 _Oh_ , Ianto mouthed. “Yeah, that should be fine,” he said aloud. “Just let me ask Lisa.”

*********

“Okay, then,” he said, drawing in a deep breath, “since everyone knows about Tuesday already, I’ll skip going over that bit. While I was unconscious, the files were changed - presumably by whoever - or whatever - knocked me out, which would explain the pain. The bit you aren’t familiar with, Agnes - or you, Lisa - is the significance of the new files.”

“None of them are anything we have on record in the Archives, you mean? I already knew that. I checked on Wednesday,” Agnes cut in, then glanced at Ianto apologetically. “I hadn’t told you about that yet - I figured I’d be able to figure it out myself.”

“Uh… I already knew,” Ianto told her awkwardly.

“What?”

Gray cleared his throat. “The files aren’t on the Torchwood database,” he agreed, “but I recognised the information.”

“What?” Agnes said again, this time confused rather than irritated. “How?”

He took a deep breath, glancing at Ianto, who nodded encouragingly. “It was all information about my homeworld. I’m from the future, Haversham.”

Agnes stood up, her chair screeching. “You’re **what**?!”

“I’m human!” he assured her, hands held out in front of him, “I’m just from three thousand years in the future, on a planet called the Boeshane Peninsula.”

She sat down with a thump. “I thought you said you grew up in Cardiff,” she said faintly.

“I was pulled through their space-time rift when I was 11, so technically I did.”

“That had to have been a culture shock,” Lisa remarked.

“Yeah, it was,” he said.

“So Ianto already knew,” Agnes surmised. Gray nodded. “Have you ever told anyone else?”

“No, just you three. Which suggests that whatever changed the files is telepathic, and I’m assuming alien in origin,” he said.

“You’re assuming it’s alien in origin,” Lisa said dryly. “Gray, we work at _Torchwood_.”

*********

Agnes and Ianto had been staying late looking for any files about telepathic aliens and emailing them to Lisa, who printed them out to take home and look over, since neither of them could requisition any more psychic paper. During the day, they continued trying to figure out what the object was, using printed copies of the files Gray had originally borrowed. At night, they went through the list of telepathic aliens to try and figure out which of them, if any, had attacked him. He really wasn’t sleeping anymore - he’d taken to roaming the city at night, and at one point, climbing to the roof of his flat and watching the stars all night. He was pretty sure that he was about five minutes and one piece of bad news away from having a complete breakdown. There was no way Yvonne wouldn’t eventually find out and lock him in one of the cells downstairs; she might even execute his friends for treason if she found out they knew, and she would Retcon them at the very least. He hadn’t been so terrified since he first started working for Torchwood.

It was only at times like this, when things got really bad, that he allowed himself to really miss Boeshane and his family. Especially his brother, who hadn’t been afraid of anything and had always looked out for him. At least until the day _they_ came. Gray had spent the two years he was imprisoned by them blaming Javic for letting go of his hand, and every year he’d spent on Earth cursing himself for tripping. If only he had been surer-footed, if only he’d been able to keep up ( _if only Javic had helped him get up, he thought sometimes, with a flash of bitterness_ ), if only he had been able to _hold on_ ( _if only his brother had_ ), then he wouldn’t have been taken by the Rift and spat out on this cold planet that was so unlike home it had made him weep. Eventually he’d resigned himself to it, philosophically deciding that no matter how weird about touch 21st-century humans were, it was better than _their_ ships. He did miss Javic, even though he couldn’t help but hate him just a little now. Sometimes, when he heard his coworkers joking about torturing aliens or had to argue with someone about his bloody right to exist, he didn’t even bother trying to not hate Javic. After all, if his brother had survived the attack, then he had never had to endure anything like being trapped on 21st-century Earth. He’d always feel vaguely guilty about feeling that way later, because he didn’t even know if he _had_ survived - just because he’d gotten further than Gray had, and hadn’t been captured, didn’t mean he hadn’t been killed. Then he’d feel even more guilty about resenting being stuck here when it meant he’d survived when everyone else in his family might have died. He sighed morosely and flicked the pinwheel he’d stuck in a foam block on his kitchen counter.

It wasn’t like it was all bad, though, he reasoned with himself as he pulled on a coat. He _did_ have a family here now, and they cared about him and were worried about him, and unfortunately, were probably technically committing treason for him, which didn’t exactly inspire any uplifting feelings. He couldn’t lose another family.

When he got to work, Agnes was waiting for him with a flowchart and a faintly worried and very tired expression.

“Morning, Evans,” she said dully.

“Morning, Haversham,” he replied, stifling a yawn. “Where’s Ianto?”

Agnes pulled a face. “Probably off snogging Lisa now that you’ve left the flat,” she grumbled “Leaving me to do all the work, as usual.”

“Aww, _Agnes_ ,” he said, voice dripping with amused sympathy, “you just have to put up with so much ridiculousness from us allos, don’t you?”

“Damn right,” she groused, half-smirking at him. “And don’t think you’re excluded from that, Evans. Do you want to wait for Ianto or get started?”

“Get started,” he said immediately. “The sooner we figure this out the better.”

Agnes nodded and pushed the flowchart towards him. “Ianto and I drew this up based on the information in the Archives - so you go through it following the path of effects that you experienced, and we should be able to identify which one attacked you, or at least which one of these it’s most like.”

He looked down at the chart, mumbled “Thanks” and gulped, then pulled his pen out of his shirt pocket and pressed down the button. He was about a third of the way through the chart when Ianto came in, suit perfectly in place, with a cup of coffee for each of them.

“Sorry I’m late,” Ianto told them, “I was a bit busy.”

He smirked as Agnes groaned but accepted the coffee gratefully, smiled as Ianto handed him his cup, then looked back down at the flowchart and put a checkmark next to ‘temporary amnesia.’

He looked up about 10 minutes later, clicking his pen again, and said, “Alright, I’m done.” He glanced back down. “Hold on, I want to sign this.” As he clicked the pen down again, he felt a wave of contentment sweep over him. He smiled dopily at Ianto and Agnes, who were standing near the box - and then he started screaming.

“Uhh,” he groaned, blinking slowly. “What happened?”

Agnes was staring at him with a horrified expression on her face.

“You… you collapsed,” Ianto replied softly, setting Gray’s pen on the table.

“Why d’you have my pen?” he slurred.

“You dropped it,” Ianto told him gently, sitting down next to him on the floor and pulling him into a backwards hug.

Gray leaned backwards into his chest and, peering up hopefully, remarked, “It’d be nice if you ran your fingers through my hair.” Ianto laughed quietly, but rubbed the back of his head; Agnes slowly moved closer, and he noticed that she had her sidearm out. He frowned. She knelt next to them, clicking on the safety and sliding it back into its holster, then took his hand.

“Alright, Gray, I need you to stay calm and not panic,” Ianto said. He took a deep breath. “You passed out just now, but before that you were screaming, which means whatever caused you to collapse the first time has been affecting you since then. We don’t know what set it off -”

“You touched the box,” Agnes broke in sharply.

Ianto looked up. “What? I’d already moved away from it when he started screaming.”

“He didn’t just scream, though,” she pointed out. “He smiled first - and he started smiling right as you touched the box.”

Ianto stared at her, mouth open. “Oh my God, you’re right.” he looked back down. “I’m so sorry, Gray,” he said.

“S’fine,” Gray assured him, then looked at both of them guiltily. “I… may not have been entirely honest with you about what I was doing here that first night,” he admitted. “It reminded me of home, and I wanted to spend some time alone with it, just… Anyway, I touched it - that’s what triggered my collapse. So, given what just happened, I think there’s something in the box that I may have established a psychic link with.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when I get the chance to go through your flowchart answers,” Agnes said, standing up. “I should be able to get to it sometime this afternoon.”

He nodded. “Sorry,” he told Ianto.

“Don’t be,” Ianto replied. “I understand.”

*********

They decided that Gray would spend the rest of the day with Lisa, claiming that he had a headache (which was true) from doing so much reading (which was decidedly _not_ true). As soon as he finished explaining the events of that morning to her, Lisa decided to take him to her favourite café for lunch. He had wanted to stay in the Tower in case anything happened, but she had insisted. It turned out Lisa could actually be very intimidating when she wanted to be, he reflected, hands curled around a mug of decent, if not quite Ianto-quality, coffee. He thought she could have made a decent interrogator for the Time Agency if she’d been born a few thousand years later and if she wasn’t so nice. This train of thought was interrupted when she set down her own coffee with a faintly disappointed look and a sigh.

He chuckled. “You’re completely spoiled, Hallett,” he remarked.

“I _know_ ,” she groaned. “It’s not even that bad, it’s just… not _Ianto’s_ coffee. Once you’re used to waking up to a cup of that every morning… well. I’m ruined for everything else. And I used to really _like_ the coffee here,” she added plaintively.

Gray sighed wistfully. “Oh, to be dating a former barista.”

“At least the little madelines are good,” she said, popping the last one into her mouth and looking hopefully at the ones on his plate. He pushed it over, picking up the rest of his sandwich. “Aw, thank you!” she said, then stopped. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all. I’m more of a savoury kind of guy myself,” he said, then grinned mischievously and added “I _do_ like whipped cream, though -”

“Gray!” she exclaimed, half-laughing, half-choking on a madeline.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist,” he said, smirking and patting her on the back.

“I can’t believe Agnes hasn’t snapped and killed you yet,” she laughed.

“Me neither!” he exclaimed cheerfully. “Sometimes I think she thinks I’m alright, though,” he added seriously. “I do actually like her, and I certainly respect her.”

“She does like you,” Lisa assured him, “Otherwise she wouldn’t be helping you now.”

“She took my being from the future rather well,” he remarked softly. “So did you, actually.”

Lisa shrugged. “I did have my suspicions when you were first hired,” she admitted. He blinked. “Everyone was impressed by how much you knew about alien technology and how well you understood cultures from different times and different planets, and I was curious, so I looked into your files, in Employee History, and I could tell that someone had tampered with sections of it to cover certain gaps.”

“Oh,” he said stupidly. “Wow, I really am bad with this century’s computers.”

She snorted softly at him, shaking her head. “Gray, you’re an _anthropologist_ ,” she said. “And I’ve seen you licking pottery shards when you think no one’s looking. Of course you’re bad at altering computer records.”

“You’ve… you’ve seen me…?” he trailed off. Lisa nodded, raising an eyebrow in an eerily Ianto-esque fashion. “It’s an old archeology trick,” he explained, blushing, “to see if something is bone or pottery.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around London, spending some time in one of the parks before deciding it was probably about time to start heading back. On the way, they passed a science museum exhibit.

“Oh, neat!” he exclaimed, rushing forwards.

“Gray, that’s a children’s exhibit!” Lisa laughed, trailing after him.

“Culture!” he replied cheerfully. “I _am_ an anthropologist, after… all.” He stopped.

Lisa crashed into his back. “Sorry,” she said. “Gray? What’s wrong?”

“It’s a shadow box,” he said slowly.

“Yeah,” she said, frowning. “To show the kids a habitat, it looks like.”

“They had us make those in school once,” he explained dully. “I couldn’t do it. First assignment I ever failed.”

“Oh. And?”

He tried to ignore the sound of his blood rushing through his ears. “On Boeshane, shadow boxes are evil. And I just figured out why the box we’re looking at seemed familiar.”

“You don’t mean…” she trailed off.

“We need to get back to Canary Wharf now,” he said.

“Right,” Lisa nodded. “Let’s go.”

Agnes and Ianto were talking quietly to each other when Gray and Lisa ran into the room.

“It’s an Ais’en,” he and Agnes said in unison.

“How…?” she let the rest of the question trail off.

“The box,” he said, “It’s a shadow box. That must be why it was in Three’s Secure Archives - Harkness must have somehow known what it was.” He sucked in a wobbly breath. “Shadow boxes in the 21st century - you stick things in them, like little dioramas. They’re a fun project for kids. In the 51st century, the same term is used to refer to a box made to contain Ais’en - shadow creatures that feed on fear by creating a psychic link with their victims and eventually driving them mad with terror, at which point the victims usually kill themselves. The boxes are carved with warning symbols, telling you not to touch it, because they can still form links with their victims through the boxes if someone touches it with their bare hands. Fortunately for Ianto, when they’re in the boxes, they can only form one link at a time, so it’s not feeding off of him, just me. The Ais’en didn’t change the files because they were my memories, it’s because Torchwood finding out about me is one of my fears.”

“I gathered from the file that they’re very rare. How do you know so much about them?” Ianto asked.

“Javic’s stories about them. He used to try to scare the other kids by telling us stories about monsters. Well, that and distract us from being scared of the creatures that might actually invade. Javic was my older brother,” he added, seeing the blank looks on Agnes’ and Lisa’s faces.

“How do we stop it feeding on you?” Lisa asked.

“By killing it,” Agnes replied, then paused and took a deep breath. “And we can only kill it by letting it out.”

“What,” Lisa said flatly. “Gray just said that it could feed on multiple people if it was out of the box!”

“We should be able to overpower it. There _are_ three of us,” Ianto pointed out, aiming for an optimistic tone but falling somewhat short of the mark.

“With _one_ gun between you,” Lisa said. “Agnes is the only one of us with clearance, and it’s not like either of you two can requisition one for this!”

“No, but we could try to either borrow or steal Jeremy Thompson’s,” Ianto replied, shrugging. “Gray would distract him, and I’d pickpocket the gun.”

“And how exactly are you planning on returning the gun to him?” she asked in a decidedly frosty tone of voice.

_“You have to find your worst fear first. And you have to admit your worst fear to the Ais’en, so it will take that shape,” Javic whispers, leaning towards the other kids, a serious expression on his face, “And then it will seem like it’s died, by your fear’s hand. Then your fear will tell you to step forwards to the darkness, and you have to do it, to trick it. And then-”_

Gray shook himself. “It’s a moot point anyway, because I’ve got a better plan,” he chimed in. “Ianto and Agnes distract Jeremy so that he won’t notice anything going on in the room, and I kill it. Agnes could… loan me her gun?”

“You can’t be serious! It’ll kill you!” “Gray, we’re _not_ letting you face that thing by yourself!” “We’re not just going to _leave_ you, that’s crazy!” yelled Agnes, Ianto, and Lisa in unison.

“You called it a shadow creature - there’s no guarantee that bullets will have any effect on it!” Lisa added heatedly.

“But I’m the one who it’s linked to, and I know more about them than the rest of you, and I need someone to distract Jeremy and black out the CCTV for the room,” he said.

“Sorry, but it’s not happening, Gray,” Ianto said angrily. “Do you not think the plan will work?”

He sighed. “No.”

“I beg your _bloody_ pardon!” Agnes shouted. “We’ve researched this! It’s called a plan for a reason.”

“Shadow creature doesn’t mean that it looks like a, like, darkness or anything - the Ais’en can shapeshift in order to take the physical form of your fears. They got the name shadow creatures because a lot of people are afraid of the dark, and it takes that form to scare them. It won’t do that for me, though, because the Vashta Nerada are the least of my worries.”

“Sorry, the what?” Ianto asked.

“Carnivorous living shadows - I’ll tell you later,” he promised. “I need to be alone with it so it can’t latch on to any more victims, so it’ll just take the form of my fears. And all of my worst fears can be shot. Agnes, I’ll need to borrow your gun.”

“Alright,” she sighed, handing it to him, “Safety’s on, but it is loaded, Gray.”

He nodded, sliding the magazine out and slipping it into his trouser pocket. “I’ll sit in here and work on my report - might as well, since I know what it is now. I’ll open the box after everyone’s gone.” He smiled nervously. “Wish me luck.”

*********

Gray was really beginning to wish he’d spent less time trying to tune out Javic’s scary stories. He also wished Javic had been less poetic and more straightforward about it. He kind of really _needed_ to remember what came after the “ _And then_.” The farthest he’d managed to get was that it was something like “Go towards it,” which was absolutely useless.

 _And why do_ I _have to figure out my worst fear anyway?_ he thought. _Why can’t I just let the Ais’en do the work for me? Those creatures coming back and somehow finding me; waking up chained to a wall again and realising that all of this was just a dream; Yvonne finding out about me and locking me in a cell; my family being dead; Javic surviving and never bothering to look for me; failing to kill the Ais’en; putting my friends at risk: there are so many things I’m afraid of. How am I supposed to pick just one?_

He stood up and stretched, glancing at his watch. Jeremy would still be there - he had time to try and figure it out, if only to try and distract himself while he waited.

“I can cross my family off the list,” he said aloud, “That’s not my _worst_ fear. I can cross off Javic - that mostly just pisses me off. I can cross off failure - I’m Torchwood, I’m ready for this. And even if I do get killed, the Ais’en will still be trapped in this room and it can’t hurt my friends. So that leaves…” he faltered, and started pacing. “That leaves _them_ and Yvonne. It’s going to take the form of one of those. Well, if it takes _their_ form, I’ll know it’s the Ais’en because there’s no way they could get in here without Yvonne locking them up. It’s an irrational fear, and the only things I need to worry about now are the things that could plausibly happen.” He was unconsciously gesticulating as he spoke, as though he were giving a lecture. “So, the only one left is Yvonne, because even if I kill the Ais’en, she could still find out about me - there are so many things that could fail. The CCTV blackout might not work, Jeremy might come back too soon… and I’d end up in a cell. Okay, Javic, I’ve figured out my worst fear. Now what?”

He sat back down and closed his eyes.

 _“Your fear will realise itself more and more, the closer you get to the Ais’en’s body, to try and drive you closer towards it. You have to keep going, to trick it into thinking it’s won, to lull it into complacence. It wants you to touch the body so that it can devour you, so you have to be careful not to do so. You_ have _to remember that, no matter how scared you are. And then you -”_

“Argh!” Gray screamed. “Why can’t I remember?”

He whipped around when someone knocked on the door.

“Everything alright in there, Evans?” Jeremy shouted.

“Yeah,” he called back, forcing out a chuckle, “sorry about that - I can’t remember a technical term I need to describe this properly, to classify it correctly.”

“Maybe you should leave it until tomorrow,” Jeremy suggested. “It might be that you can’t remember because of your concussion, and we wouldn’t want you to collapse again.”

“‘ _We_ wouldn’t want’? How about ‘ _I_ wouldn’t want’?” he called back poutingly. “I thought you liked me, Jeremy.” He grinned to himself as he heard Jeremy sputtering on the other side of the door. “But I’ll stay here for just a bit longer and see if I can remember. I’m nearly finished.”

“Well, good luck then. Make sure not to strain yourself,” Jeremy said.

“Oh, it is _so_ tempting to make that an innuendo,” he replied, grinning “but thanks, I will.”

He glanced down at his watch again.

About seven minutes later ( _right on time, he mused_ ), he heard the muffled sounds of a discussion outside the room, then footsteps as the conversation faded away. He stood up and slid the magazine back into the gun before approaching the shadow box.

“I’m not _that_ scared,” he said faintly as his hands trembled.

Then he wrenched open the box and the Ais’en seeped out. He gasped involuntarily and took a horrified step backwards. It _was_ a shadow creature, all dark and indistinct save for the red pupilless eyes and long, outstretched claws. And it was getting bigger, and the lights were going out. He pulled up the gun, aiming towards the eyes, and planted his feet.

“What a way to go!” he shouted defiantly. “Me a Torchwood agent, saving the Institute. Yvonne will be so proud - I probably wouldn’t even need to be afraid of her anymore, and she _terrifies_ me.”

The Ais’en didn’t have a mouth, but he somehow knew that it was smiling triumphantly anyway. He had just told it his worst fear. It stepped forwards. Then he heard the door burst open behind him.

He whirled around. “Yvonne!”

“Gray, duck!” she shouted, raising her own gun and shooting the Ais’en, the bullets crackling strangely with some kind of electricity. It fell, collapsing into a harmless-looking stain on the floor.

“That was very brave of you, Mr. Thane,” she said, stepping towards him.

Gray froze. “What did you call me?’ he asked.

Yvonne blinked. “Mr. Thane,” she replied evenly. “That is your _real_ name, after all, isn’t it?”

He stared past her. _The door’s closed_ , he noted. _She didn’t close it, which means it never really opened. It isn’t really her - it_ has _to be the Ais’en_. “Yes, it is. Been a long time since I’ve heard it, though,” he admitted.

“Mmm, some three thousand years,” Yvonne said. “Now, I’m sorry, but you know the policy, Gray, and even though you are technically human, you’re from the future, and from an alien planet: and if it’s alien, it’s ours.”

“Can’t I just be a tenured employee here?” he quipped, edging backwards. “And could you please turn on the lights?”

“You’re more use to the Empire hooked up to a computer, feeding us the information we need, I’m afraid,” she said matter-of-factly.

He snorted. “The _Empire_ ,” he said. “You want to know some information about the future, Director Hartman? In the future there are empires, and their colonies, that span galaxies, but they’re _nothing_ like your idea of them.”

“We can always change that,” she replied with utter self-assurance.

“You think _you’re_ enough to change the course of human history?” he scoffed incredulously. “You arrogant _Sais_!”

Yvonne clicked the safety off on her gun.

 _It was already off, though_ , he thought. _Wasn’t it_? He cringed back.

‘Clean that up,” she told him, indicating the Ais’en’s body.

He nodded quickly, turning away from her and looking down at the oily black substance staining the floor. _I shouldn’t touch it, I remember. But what am I supposed to do now?_ He closed his eyes. _Javic, please._

_“And then you turn around and face it,” Javic finishes, looking expectantly at the others, who stare back at him with varying degrees of puzzlement on their faces. He sighs loudly as they wander off._

_“What do you mean, ‘face it’?” Gray asks. “Do you stop being scared?”_

_“No,” his brother replies, brightening instantly. “You can’t just decide to not be scared. But you can decide -”_

“It’s worth being scared for,” he whispered. He stood back up and turned to face Yvonne. “I’m terrified of you,” he told her. “So terrified I thought about packing up and disappearing instead of taking you up on your job offer. Do you know why I decided not to, in the end? It wasn’t just that I could get closer to all this knowledge and information and history. It was because of Ianto and Agnes - because they’d become my friends.”

“I’ll be sure to let them visit you, then,” Yvonne said briskly.

“Ianto and Agnes and Lisa are my family,” he continued speaking “and they’re worth the risk.”

He raised Agnes’ gun and fired. White blood gushed out of the wound in Yvonne’s forehead as the shadow on the floor dissolved. When it stopped, both bodies disappeared entirely. The lights came back on.

*********

“I’m surprised it took you three such a short time to identify the object, given the unfortunate delays” Yvonne told Agnes, Ianto, and Gray as they stood in front of her, “and very impressed that you managed despite all that. I was afraid I would have to replace you. Well done, all of you.” She shook each of their hands in turn.

“If I could speak to you for a moment, Director,” Ianto interjected, “alone.”

Yvonne raised an eyebrow but nodded. Agnes and Gray exchanged a puzzled look as they sat down. After half a minute had passed with no sign of Ianto returning, they stood up in unison and crept towards the door.

“…so, I feel the department would benefit from a change in that regard, not to mention that it would surely help Britain’s economy, albeit in a small way…”

‘ _What_ is he talking about?’ Agnes mouthed. He shrugged. Yvonne’s voice could be heard, saying something that sounded reassuring, though the words were indistinct.

“I merely bring this up because last week… negative side effects… rather graphic sexual fantasies…”

Gray started shaking with silent laughter; Agnes’ lips curled back with disgust.

“Right then, Ianto, I’ll give it my full consideration,” Yvonne said. Then came the sound of her heels clicking away.

Ianto came back into the room, grimacing.

“What the hell…?” Gray asked.

Ianto sighed. “I just asked Yvonne to stop using psychic paper for the paper copies of Archive Reports.” He paused, and Gray raised an eyebrow of his own, urging him to continue. Ianto coughed. “By telling her that you inadvertently changed some of the files when you were injured, because of what you were thinking at the time.”

“And _where_ exactly do ‘graphic sexual fantasies’ fit into this?” Agnes cut in.

“I told her that that’s what some of the files changed into.”

Gray started laughing as Agnes heaved a despairing sigh and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

*********

“So, how exactly did you kill it?” Lisa asked curiously.

Gray shrugged. “Oh, you know, the power of friendship and a gun,” he quipped. “It pretended to be Yvonne coming to lock me up. I told her I was terrified of that actually happening but was willing to take the risk because of you lot. Then I shot it.”

“Wow,” Ianto chimed in. “Straight to the point. And also, thanks.”

He smirked and winked. “You know it.”

“So that’s how you kill them? Deciding something’s not that scary anymore, because something else is worth the risk?” Agnes asked, sliding off the chair and squashing in next to him on Ianto’s couch.

“Not exactly,” he replied. “Javic told me that story about them, and the ending is that you face it - your fear, that is. You don’t stop being scared, of course, since most of the time you can’t. He said _‘You can decide to stand there anyway. You decide to be brave.’_ A bit flowery, I’ll admit, but he was stylizing it for narrative purposes. The point is, though, that you decide something’s worth it even if you are scared. That was very important on Boeshane, doing things even though you’re scared. Makes sense that it would be, I guess, since we lived under the threat of invasion.”

The others all made sounds of agreement.

“You must miss him,” Lisa said, frowning sympathetically.

“Sometimes,” he said.

“Do you think you’ll ever see him again?” she asked.

“I doubt it,” he replied, smiling wryly. “After all, what are the chances of Javic getting trapped on 21st-century Earth?”


End file.
